Control
by Silvered Rae
Summary: He always wanted to be in control, so much that he turned against the gods and everyone who cared about him. Now he realizes that perhaps the only way to win is to lose control. A reflection of a traitor's life. One-shot set during BotL.


**Disclaimer: I don't own PJO, Rick Riordan does.**

**Control**

"Will you be my vessel, Luke Castellan?"

The room-already lit only by two candles on either side of the sarcophagus-seemed to grow even dimmer. Despite the vastness of the room, an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia filled him. It was time to answer the question he knew was coming, yet was entirely unsure of how to answer.

The impulsive part of him that thought only of himself was prepared to answer. He knew what turning Kronos down would mean, and-although he was frightened of the consequences-he was ready to face that.

As he opened his mouth to answer, a memory came flooding back into his head. It was a memory so old that he wondered why it had stuck with him. It didn't seem important; it wasn't about anyone he cared about.

Yet as it played out in his mind, he became more and more entangled, remembering a time of innocence, a mother who at least pretended to care about her son, remembering...

Remembering a time so long ago that it was almost obsolete.

- - -

_His mother had dressed up for this. She rarely dressed up, let alone for something that pertained to him. Somehow it made him realize that whatever happened was going to be important._

_He wondered why she was making him come. Perhaps she wanted him to hear all the bad things his teacher would have to say about him. Perhaps she thought that it would make him see sense. Perhaps she thought that he'd change, try to do better. It would only be several years later when he fully understood why he'd been forced to accompany her._

_The walked in to the classroom, decorated by the drawings of young children and posters showing the different letters of the alphabet, the colors of the rainbow, and other things that Luke wondered why he would ever have to learn._

_They took their seats-cold, uncomfortable chairs placed in front of his desk-and waited for his teacher to say something. He looked at her, then at Luke. "Mrs. Castellan, I presume?" he said, using that high and mighty voice that made Luke despise him._

_His mother stared at the teacher intently. "Miss. Luke's father was never in the picture," she said in a clipped tone._

"_I see," he said, glancing down at his papers to hide the look in his eyes. Luke could just imagine him thinking that it all made sense. A boy with no father and a mother who probably had just barely finished high school. No wonder he was so inapt when it came to learning._

_His mother fingered the choker around her neck. "Mr. Davis, I don't have time to discuss my personal life with you, nor do I want to. Let's get this little conference over with, shall we?"_

_Mr. Davis looked up, slightly startled by the tone of voice his mother had chosen to use. He was probably surprised by the fact that his mother didn't show a big interest in his education._

"_Well..." he cleared his throat, probably unsure of how to tell this woman about the rebel that was her son, especially with him sitting right there. "I understand that your son has been diagnosed with both ADHD and dyslexia," he said._

_His mother raised her chin proudly. "What are you getting at, Mr. Davis? Are you incapable of dealing with a child who has learning disabilities?"_

_ADHD. Dyslexia. Learning disabilities. They had been just words to him at the time, and they held no meaning. Yet he knew from the way the two adults said them that they weren't something that someone would want. They weren't considered desired qualities, and they weren't going to help him succeed in school._

"_Miss, I'm afraid that your son's attitude doesn't help the matter." His mother's gaze grew colder, daring him to go on. Oblivious to her, he continued, "Your son is highly disagreeable, doesn't accept anything we try to teach him, and then there's his problem with authority figures."_

_His mother was silent for a few moments. She pursed her lips, then said, "Mr. Davis, with all due respect, where would we be if it weren't for those who questioned what they were taught? Would we be anywhere if people didn't stand up to those greater than themselves?"_

_His teacher was speechless. It gave Luke a smug feeling. His own mother had managed to take his pompous teacher down a few notches. "I don't think that applies to our modern education system, Miss Castellan."_

_His mother had some fiery retort ready, although Luke was no longer listening. He had turned his attention to the window, watching the leaves fall and wishing that he were anywhere but in the small classroom._

_Still, that short amount of time had made him recognize so many things about himself. He did not like being told what to do, he did not like those who thought they could tell him what to do, and he liked to be the one in control._

_And he knew that on some level, his mother agreed with him. He remembered after that conference, she had stopped him as soon as they were outside, knelt down, put her hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Luke, I don't want you to listen to people like him. You're better than he is. You're special."_

- - -

Mom thought I was special, he thought to himself. Mom thought that I destined for some greater purpose, or at least she did while she still cared about me.

Looking back on it, he could have laughed at the irony.

It was never that his mother had stopped caring, he thought. He didn't realize it when he was younger, but she had never gotten over his father. Seeing her son-who looked so much like Hermes and acted like him as well-had slowly broken her. Despite all the coldness and hate he felt towards her, she was his mother and he loved her. That was why he had left. He thought that she could heal if he was gone.

He'd been wrong. Completely and totally wrong.

She had need Luke, more than she needed anything. With him gone, and with him the last trace of her lover, she had lost her will to live.

And with the quick pull of a trigger, he no longer had a mother. He hadn't found out until a few years later, and it had shaken him. It made him realize that he wasn't always in control, that he wasn't always right, that even if he didn't like it, people still made their own choices.

Not being in control scared him.

- - -

_A tree, he thought as he leaned his back against the rough bark. The king of the gods, yet all he could think of to turn his daughter into was a tree._

_She would have been better off dead._

_But Zeus couldn't allow that to happen. People would think that he didn't care about his child-which was probably the case. He had to make it look like he tried, like he was a loving father._

_No tears rolled down his face as he realized the bitter truth. None of them cared. If Hermes had cared, he would have come back to Luke's mother. He wouldn't have abandoned her, moving on to another woman. None of the gods cared. They could care less what happened to their mortal offspring._

_He punched the tree, causing syrupy blood to ooze out of his hand. He didn't feel the pain, and he didn't care about it either. Thalia had been hurt much worse than he had, and it gave him some sadistic pleasure to see his blood in front of him instead of the image of hers, which kept playing over and over again in his head like a broken record._

_She had told him to be strong. She had told him to take care of Annabeth. She had told him it was okay. She had told him she would miss him while she took her final breaths._

_And, standing before what was left of her, all he could say was, "Next time I'll be better. I'll avenge what happened to you Thalia."_

_And to himself, he whispered an almost silent, "And I'll be the one in control."_

- - -

Like a ripple in the pond, every action stirs a reaction. It had taken him so long to fully understand that. It had taken him even longer to care about what would happen and what would happen to others because of what he did. He'd always been one who lived in the moment, who didn't let the past or the future affect what he did in the present. It might have had its pros, but the list of cons was definitely longer, as he would soon discover.

- - -

_The scar on his face was still new. It was an ugly red color, and it was almost always throbbing. He knew that whenever someone looked at him, they were really looking no further past the scar-the thing that marked him as a failure._

_When fighting that horrible dragon, he had lost it for one second. He had lost his grip for just a second. That was all the dragon needed to leave his mark._

_Before he'd started his quest, Chiron had asked if he'd wanted to bring someone along with him. "Your father has given you quite a difficult task, Luke. Bringing help isn't somehow going to make you weaker," he had said._

_Luke had firmly said no for two reasons, the first and most apparent being the fact that there was only one person he would have even considered taking with him: Thalia. The second-and much more subconscious-was that he didn't want someone else to have to depend on or watch out for. He wanted to be in control, to be solely responsible for the outcome of his quest-whether it was good or bad._

_And he had failed. He had no one to blame but himself for it. When put to the test, he hadn't been strong enough. His one chance to show his father he was something worth caring about, and he had failed._

_And of course, there was no consolation from his father. He doubted there would have been any acknowledgement if he had succeeded. Hermes didn't care, just as Zeus hadn't cared about Thalia. They did what they did out of obligation, not out of love for their children._

_His image stared back at him through the mirror, perfectly reflected. "I hate you," he had whispered to himself._

_The answer in his mind had startled him._

"_No. You hate them."_

- - -

That was the first time he had heard Kronos talk to him, and it had been far from the last. At first, he had thought that he was hearing his own thoughts, slowly growing more and more sinister. It had been a shock to discover that Kronos himself had been the one speaking to him.

He closed his still open mouth and stared mutely at the sarcophagus. As much as he would like to blame Kronos for the root of his own problems, he knew that he had been completely responsible for making the decision to join him.

- - -

_He knew he was dreaming, yet somehow he knew that it was much more real than a dream. He could feel the chill of the dank cave-yes, that was what it was, he decided-and almost sense the aura of great power that hung in the air._

"_Luke," the voice had called. It sounded foreign, yet the feelings it stirred in him were far from new. He recognized it, even though he was positive he had never heard it in his life._

_With a voice that sounded so small, he said, "Who are you?"_

_The whoever it was had laughed, and it occurred to him that he had no clue where it was coming from. "I know you can figure it out, Luke. Don't make me insult your cleverness by telling you."_

_It occurred to him that this...this unidentified voice had just complimented him. "I..." he started, but before he could finish the sentence and admit defeat, he saw what was at the end of the cave. A hole in the ground-no, a pit, he corrected himself. That was where the voice had been coming from._

_He had never been the greatest at Greek mythology, but he was adequate enough to figure out the identity of the voice. "You're...Kronos," he said, awe in his voice where fear probably would have been more suitable._

"_You are a clever half-blood," he said. "And that is why I've chosen you."_

"_Wait, chosen me?" he said, the fear registering in his voice now. He knew that Kronos had been powerful, and he wasn't sure if he was someone who could be trusted. Plus, a small part of him was wondering why someone so powerful would choose him for anything. There were stronger half-bloods at Camp Half-Blood. He'd proven that when he failed his quest._

"_Yes, chosen you," he repeated. "To lead my army."_

_Lead an army? It would be a lie to say that that kind of power didn't appeal to him, but there was the part of him who thought he couldn't do it. Failing his quest had shattered his confidence. He didn't think he could do anything right, and leading an army did not sound easy._

"_You want redemption and revenge," he said, his words like an intricate spider web that entangled an innocent fly. "With my help, you can get that. I care about you, Luke. I'll make you strong, stronger than you can ever imagine."_

_I care about you. Even though it was a lie, that was what had sealed the deal for him. Someone who cared about him, or at least was able to pretend to convincingly. That was what he wanted. That, and control._

_Kronos offered him both. It really wasn't a hard decision._

"_I will."_

- - -

Over time, Kronos had become a father figure in his mind. The father that Hermes never was. And a son takes after his father, so he began to become more and more like Kronos. Manipulative. Dishonest. Once again confident.

Working with Kronos had been great...at first. Then Kronos grew impatient, and his expectations of Luke had grown. He'd had to do things he had never imagined doing-nor had he ever wanted to.

- - -

"_Poison that tree, the one that guards that little camp," he had ordered one day._

_Luke hadn't responded immediately, but when he did, he said, "Thalia's tree. It's called Thalia's tree."_

_He could feel Kronos' irritation. "I don't care what it's called. I want it poisoned, and I want you to be the one who does it, Luke."_

_Anything else-had it been almost any other person-he would have done without a regret. Not Thalia. Thalia was the one figure who he still had up on a pedestal in his mind. She was the one person he still looked up to, the one person he still cared about._

_Defiance filled him, and with it misplaced confidence. "No," he said simply. "Get someone else to do it."_

_A pain so great that he fell to his knees erupted in his skull. Dots and lines swarmed his vision, and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out._

"_You see, Luke," Kronos started, his voice sounding moderate to severely angry, "I can't remember asking you if you wanted to or not. I told you I wanted it done, so it's going to happen, and you're going to be the one to bring it about. Understand?"_

"_Yes!" he cried out, willing to do anything to rid himself of the pain. _

_The pain left, and with it the trust he had misplaced in Kronos. "I'm sorry, Thalia," he said, tears running down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."_

_And as Kronos had ordered, he had done it._

_And so he learned that he was Kronos' little pawn, able to be pushed around and manipulated._

_He was not in control._

- - -

Slowly every bit of control had left him. True, he was the leader of a growing army, but was he really a leader if he still had to answer to someone else? What it came down to was if Kronos ordered something to be done, it had to be done. He was in control, but only as long as he went with his superior.

Which was as good as being powerless.

- - -

_He had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Literally. It was impossibly painful, like he was being torn apart. How did he have the strength to keep holding the sky?_

_Because when you have no choice, you find the strength that you never knew you had._

_He knew that eventually the pain would drive him insane. There was no one to help him out of it. He had to put his trust in Atlas and hope that he had someone else planned to take his burden._

_But he didn't like trusting people. Everyone he trusted had left or betrayed him. Knowing that his fate was in the hands of Atlas, and whether or not he brought someone else to hold up the sky, was not comforting in the least._

_He'd only went along with the plan because Kronos had ordered it, and looking back on it, he thought that going against Kronos might have been less painful than holding the weight of the world._

_How had Atlas done it for so long?_

_Burning pain. Fiery pain. Mind-numbing pain. So much pain, so few words to adequately describe it._

_It felt like infinity-like it would never end-even though it could have only been a few hours. It could have been a few days, or even a few weeks. Time seemed to become irrelevant; only the pain mattered._

_And it was so ironic that this was the exact place where he had once failed his quest and marked himself as a failure._

_If it was possible to detach the mind from the body, he wished he would have been able to. His thoughts were incoherent, bits and pieces that he only later was able to put together._

_There were few people he would wish this pain on, but he knew that when there was someone he could transfer it to, he wouldn't hesitate to turn it over._

_And when Annabeth-the girl he considered his younger sister-was his replacement, he did what he did without remorse, or at least until he saw the agonizing pain that she was in-physical, as well as emotional because of what he had done to her. It hurt him to see her in such pain-and it hurt worse to know that he was the one who had caused it._

_And so he learned that even evil and selfish, he was still weakened by empathy._

- - -

He had lost his grip. Filled with guilt and doubt, he was no longer fully on one side. No longer evil, yet far away from good. Kronos had lost faith in him, and he wasn't trusted by anyone.

Not even Thalia.

- - -

_Seeing her was hard. Hearing her say she hated him was harder. Having to fight her was the hardest. He knew he couldn't win, and he didn't want to. He would rather have died than hurt her._

_He had only hoped that she would feel the same way._

_She hadn't. She had pushed him off the cliff. Still, he couldn't die. No, that would have been too easy. Such a quick death would have been a benevolent end to so horrible a life._

_Pain coursed through his body. He hoped that death would come. It would have been his luck to live through it all and have to face Kronos' wrath for his failure._

_Thalia wouldn't care if he died. The one person who he idolized in his mind, and she didn't care about him. It crushed him, worse than the pain he felt physically. Thalia was who he had done everything for._

_And Thalia was the one who hated him for everything he did._

- - -

The realization dawned on him that perhaps he wasn't meant to be in control. Being in control always led him to disappointment.

He always made the wrong decision, possibly because he always went with his instinct. He always chose the more instantly appealing choice when faced with two options. And he didn't want to wait; he wanted whatever he did to have immediate effects. ADHD. That was what the word he had heard his teacher use so many years ago meant.

Maybe the only way to win was to lose. Maybe it was time to cut his losses. He no longer cared what happened to him; that had left when Thalia had said she hated him.

He didn't want control anymore.

"Yes," said Luke Castellan.

His fate was sealed.

**Author's Note: Thank you to Ellen 26 and Aish Sheva for their help! This is set loosely to Pain Redefined by Disturbed in case you were wondering...Anyway, I don't think it's all that special, so CC would be nice.**


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